I've never seen a brighter night light than Love.

Oh this night feels so black
like a granite chalkboard that no one thought to decorate.
And there feels to be little camaraderie between the stars that seem to not want to glow tonight.
There must be secrets in this night for the stars to be so hidden.
Or perhaps it's just hurt that's oozing through the streets.
The kind of hurt that makes you run from behind one tree to the next,
keeping out of sight.
Or the kind that has you sitting beneath street lights,
yelling at the sky for a fight.
And there are those who ignore the pain,
and just walk through the alleys as if it were bright out,
side stepping trash, and stumbling over pot holes with their eyes averted.
And we don't understand why this place won't shine.

But what is to shine
must endure the burning.

The burning of coming clean and stepping out from behind that post box.
Of lowering your fists, and letting tears free.
Of opening your eyes and realizing that this isn't the beat you were meant to walk.

Because God didn't create this world to be in the dark.
Which is why he hung the stars.

Because we were made to burn.
To burn so we can burn bright.